Darker Worlds
by norxcoffee
Summary: Lukas has always been able to see the creatures. They have haunted him for years- and now someone else can see them too. But what Lukas does not know is that they are part of a far darker world. One that he may regret entering.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I want to apologise for how short this is, it was written from a prompt I received on my tumblr a while ago. I've planned out nine more chapters for it which will be much longer, but I don't know how often I'll be updating, since I have one long ongoing fic (see in my bio) that takes up a lot of time (it's updated every week if you'd like to check it out!) However, this story is something I'm quite excited about, so I'd like to update it as often as possible. Once again, the later chapters will be much longer, and if you liked it leave a review and let me know your thoughts! :D**

He has always been able to see them. The creatures, hovering at the edge of his vision, haunting flickers of another world. They have no bodies- are simply crimson patchworks of veins, a strange woven mess of blood and other fluids he'd rather not think about. Lukas knows it's not normal. He knows no one else can see these 'things'. But that doesn't stop him from thinking about them obsessively, wishing he was rid of them and wanting to know just what they _are_ at the same time. They thrive on shadow, on all the dark spaces of his little flat, so Lukas walks. Down roads, past shops, through parks and playgrounds, everywhere the sun touches. It is only at night that the creatures truly torment him. The second he closes his eyes they are there, clamouring behind his eyelids, a constant crimson nightmare. Lukas never sleeps well. Sometimes, when it is especially bad, he throws caution to the wind and ventures outside again. After a few midnight jaunts the cold does not bite at him so much. And yet, often he feels as though he is going mad. No psychiatrist would believe him, none of the almost-friends he sees every day at his safe little accountant's office. So Lukas smiles at the world, and pretends the one in his head is not real. Not going to kill him.

Today is Saturday- the worst day, meaning Lukas has a whole forty-eight hours to spend with his demons, when during the week he is preoccupied by spreadsheets full of numbers. Today he decides to walk through the town centre. It is a riot of activity, bustling crowds of pedestrians and the roar of traffic filling the air, but all that helps to suppress the creatures. Lukas spends much longer than he should in the park. The air there is cool, tucked away from the city's cacophony, and he can sit reading a book for as long as he likes. But dusk arrives with irksome speed. Lukas rises, joints creaking from being still for so long. His eyes flicker immediately to the tree in front of him. Its leaves cast thousands of small shadows, each one concealing a red web of horrors, yet Lukas cannot tear his gaze away. He stares, half-fascinated and half-repulsed. If he squints they become less demonlike. Strange instead, almost beautiful with their delicate scarlet skins. He tucks the book into his jacket and begins the journey home.

There is a road Lukas likes to walk down, mainly because it is not shadowed in the evening like all the others. But the concrete is a work of art. It is covered by bright chalk drawings, everything from childish scribbles to intricate patterns. There are messages, declarations of love, doodles and cartoons, yet another feature of the cheerful world Lukas has never quite belonged to. He longs to draw something himself- but what? All that springs to mind are his creatures. Shaking his head, he continues down past the drawings. But something stops him in his tracks. There is someone right at the end, knelt on the pavement, hands sketching out a red blur. Lukas moves forward despite himself. The artist is a young man with a shock of dark blond hair, sleeves rolled to his elbows and forearms dusted with chalk. He draws well, every stroke of the chalk having a purpose to his creation.

'That's good-' begins Lukas. And then he stops dead. Drawn on the pavement, accurate to the millimetre, are the petrifying demons of his mind. Just seconds ago he was marvelling at the artist's skill. Now he finds himself cursing it.

'You- you can see them too?' Lukas blurts out. He slaps a hand to his mouth, but the damage is already done.

'What do you mean?' says the artist, climbing slowly to his feet. He holds a stick of chalk in each hand- one red, one white.

'The creatures,' stammers Lukas. 'Those...things.' He gestures at the drawings. Just as it had been serious moments ago, the young man's face breaks into a wide grin, and he attempts to siphon off some of the chalk with a tissue.

'This is great!' he enthuses. Lukas did not expect that to be his first reaction, but he supposes it could have been much worse. 'All my life I've thought I was mad- probably true- but now there's someone else!' The grin is so wide, so sincere that Lukas cannot help smiling too. 'What's your name? I'm Mathias.'

'Lukas,' he replies, shaking a hand smooth with chalk residue. His heart is acting strangely, fluttering one moment and slowing the next. _I'm not mad. I'm not mad._ The revelation is so liberating, so beautiful, that Lukas could have jumped about and shouted like a child. 'Do you draw here every day?' Mathias' eyes catch his own. They are a light, clear blue, like the summer sky- a pleasant colour. Lukas' own are deep and dark as an ocean.

'Mostly,' replies Mathias, waving a hand back at the pavement. It is obvious now- some of the dragons and mermaids and fairies have his style, the soft shading and sharp, distinct lines that first captivated Lukas. 'My brother's kid loves it, and so do a load of his friends, so I get dragged here a lot.' _He has a brother. A nephew. A normal life._ Lukas swallows, trying to forget his gloomy little flat and the horrors within that haunt him every night. 'But this is different.' Mathias becomes serious again. 'I'm an artist- when I want to draw something, I won't rest until I've done it. That's what happened with our creatures.' His grin returns, though more wry and subdued.

'What do you think they are?' Lukas dares to ask. His own suspicions are dark ones- demons, devils, spirits sent to torment him for no apparent reason.

'Honestly? I have no idea. But I'd like to know.' They exchange nods. Something is itching in the back of his mind. Intuition, perhaps.

'And they- they never go? You can always see them?'

'Unfortunately.' Mathias taps his lip, as though struggling to remember something. After a moment he pulls a card from his pocket and hands it to Lukas. 'Mathias Andersen, Professional Artist' it reads, along with his qualifications and contact details. 'Call me sometime. We can talk about our, ah, mutual aquaintances.' They grin at each other again. Lukas says his goodbyes, and is just turning away when Mathias calls out again. 'They tell me things. Warnings, advice- and names.' A chill of foreboding scurries down his spine with icy claws.

'Which names?' says Lukas before he can stop himself. His mouth is dry- fear, or anticipation? Though maybe they are the same thing.

'Yours. Lukas Bondevik.' This time Mathias' smile is almost apologetic.

 **More to follow.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I'm sorry this is so late, I've had no time to write recently. But I hope you like it! Things will get far more interesting soon :D leave a review to let me know what you thought!**

He watches Lukas' receding figure until it is nothing more than a dark blot in the distance, illuminated by golden rays of light. Only when he has disappeared does Mathias let his eyes move. He leaves the chalk where it is and begins the short walk home. Oslo is beautiful at this time of day. Every pathway is gilded with the rose-blush sunset, the sea's constant lapping can be heard over the dying hum of traffic, and trees rustle softly in the autumn breeze. Mathias moved here to be closer to his brother, to find a new world of artistic potential. What he did not expect was to find someone like him. Yet Lukas is just that- a strained, tired soul, plagued by the same neverending shadow-demons of Mathias' own clandestine world. But the marks of fatigue only make his face more interesting; the sort of face that Mathias' fingers itch to draw. He skips over a puddle, ignoring the ripple across it that conceals his creatures. Twenty-four years. Twenty-four years of life, in which he has not known a single day without them. _And I cannot ignore them._ For no matter what he does, what lengths Mathias goes to to normalise his existence, there is something irrevocably fascinating about his little nightmare friends. Something he yearns to discover.

He is greeted by light the moment he enters his flat. Lamps cover every surface, enough that there is hardly a shadow to be seen. What little space that remains is taken up by Mathias' art. Landscapes, portraits, pencilled sketches yet to be completed, a wide riot of colour to divert his mind from the creatures. Most would call the place cluttered; Mathias knows it is the only way he will stop himself from going utterly mad. He picks up a paintbrush, rolling its wooden handle between his fingers whilst he searches for inspiration. The urge is there- to draw, to let his imagination loose upon a blank canvas. Ignoring a half-finished commission, Mathias finds a rough graphite stick and the little black book he always records new ideas in. His mind casts back to Lukas' terrified gaze. _He knows there is something more to this, something that sets us apart from the rest of the world._ Their shared terror soon becomes a grey-and-white reality on paper. Mathias' fingers move together in harmony with the graphite, so easy, so natural, that it is almost unnecessary to think. The drawing, when he finishes, is as realistic as his best candid portrait. _Yet I am one of a mere two people who know that to be true._ A shiver hangs in the air, not quite touching his spine. But its malignant chill is more than enough to terrify him.

He draws the creatures again and again, filling the notebook with fear until that fear is no longer so sharp in his mind. Mathias sets down his pencil and sighs. Sometimes the compulsion to draw is not inspiring; it is a dark power, a forceful hunger deep in the pit of his stomach. He brushes one finger against the pale grey lines, tracing this perfectly detailed representation of his greatest terror. Somehow, reduced to still images, the creatures hold less horror and more cautious fascination. Their bodies drape across a white canvas- pale webs of nerves splayed against a flushed, throbbing mess of tissue, tensed fingers and rigid bodies. A thought occurs to Mathias. _Mad_ , he reprimands himself. _Stupid. Not worth it._ But to switch off just one lamp would be enough- enough to reveal the creatures for his half-willing eyes. They are the only thing he is truly afraid of, an inescapable nightmare that plagues him now as much as it has ever done. So he reaches for the main plug socket, and pulls. Darkness submerges the room in a black shroud. For a long while Mathias does not even dare to open his eyes, fighting off the childlike cowardice and clenching his fists. And then he looks. The creatures are there- red-tinged, twisted, demonic- but for once Mathias is not afraid. He sees deep indigo blue mixed with all that crimson; sees comfort, friendship, _hope_.

He wakes the next morning still sat at his desk, head lolling at an awkward angle against the chair. Mathias gives a little groan. Ten am. Saturday, which means Peter'll drag him back down to the park to draw. He showers and changes in ten minutes, drinks a coffee in three, and is just grabbing a jacket when his gaze falls upon last night's work. The sketchbook is still open, pencils strewn across its pages. Something dark and almond-shaped stares up at Mathias from the creamy paper- an eye. Lukas' eye, to be exact. He has no memory of drawing it whatsoever. Its colours are exquisite, delphinium blue flecked with sharp silver, cutting straight into the beholder's heart. To think that something like this could have been created by him... He shakes his head, closing the notebook. Lukas and he are connected by the creatures, which is why his eye now lies amongst all those terror-fuelled drawings. Not remembering stings, even scares him. But Mathias cannot afford to be scared. Not if he is going to overcome this. _With Lukas by my side,_ and the thought feels oddly natural.

In the end he does not see Lukas again for nearly a whole week. He takes Peter down to the park, draws on the pavement with him until their knees are raw and aching, then drops him back at Berwald's with a faint satisfaction born of responsibility. Adult or no, Mathias will always be the rebellious kid, the reckless older brother. It is an identity he has worn for years. So is this- the slow dance of five fingers and a pen, creating images from nowhere but the fantastical world that is his mind. Three commissioned pieces get delivered that day, and three payments go into Mathias' pocket. Being an artist is hard work, but he would not change it for the world. He checks his phone almost obsessively over those next few days, waiting for something- a call, a text- to tell him that Lukas has not forgotten. Mathias is sketching idly at home when his wish is finally granted. An angel spills fully formed from his pencil, wings light, gold-touched, halo glowing with soft intensity. He is just shading its eyes a deep indigo blue colour when the phone's jubilant tones ring through his studio.

'Hello?' says Mathias, flushed with excitement. At last, is all he can think.

'It's me.' Lukas' voice is just as he remembers it, rich honey with enough smoke underneath to set his all senses alight. 'We need to talk. Can you be where we first met in fifteen minutes?' The 'yes' falls from his mouth with giddy instinct. Mathias shoves on his shoes and picks up the little sketchbook, heart thumping with anticipation. There is something about Lukas that he cannot help but be drawn to. A sort of ethereal magic; a wildness of spirit, silver shining through his eyes.

Mathias arrives a whole seven minutes early, his pace quickened by the thought of seeing Lukas again. An endearingly uneven frown curls Lukas' lip.

'Were you running?' Mathias registers his racing pulse, feels his too-warm face.

'Of course not.' Lukas smiles at that.

'Come on,' he says, standing. 'I know a place.' They walk down familiar sun-dappled streets, studiously ignoring the shadows. Mathias' mind is whirling. He can only imagine what Lukas wants to talk about, can see only a future free of demons and full of peace. At last, Lukas ushers him towards a brightly lit coffee shop in the middle of the streets. _No shadows,_ he notes with gratitude. They place their orders- cappucino, plain black- and sit back at their little corner table.

'My research has all been inconclusive so far,' begins Lukas. Mathias' heart leaps at the word _research_. He has done nothing but draw and dream of too-blue eyes.

'Me too,' he replies, trying to sound serious. 'I brought this- it's no help, but I thought you might like to see.' Lukas takes the sketchbook in one pale-fingered hand. He looks through touch as much as he does through sight, brushing his hand across the pages with almost reverent gentleness.

'These are beautiful.' Not terrifying, not strange- beautiful. The word could not mean more to Mathias.

'Thank you.' His voice is subdued for once. 'Somehow drawing them makes it better. Less scary.'

'I can see how,' Lukas murmurs back, eyes still drinking in the art. They flash to Mathias' face for a stolen second. 'Can I keep this?' The transition from sharp to shy is touching that Mathias blurts out his agreement at once.

'I hear them, you know,' he says absentmindedly, focused on the enchanting platinum sweep of Lukas' hair. 'You already knew that, but they say more than just names.'

'Like what?'

'Gibberish, mainly.' Lukas stares down at his clasped hands. There is something unreadable in his expression, a guarded set to his eyes that Mathias longs to tear away. 'Do you think they're trying to communicate?' He knows he has said the right thing when Lukas' eyes flare with rekindled interest.

'Possibly. Probably.' A thought springs into Mathias' head, unbidden. But he knows it is the right one.

'We should find more. More people like us.' Lukas nods- and a demon flutters close to his hand, its scarlet-stained form telling Mathias that this is far from over.

 **(also I apologise for the shortness of this, the chapters will get longer soon)**


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